


The Price of Believing

by tclp



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Established Relationship, Force-nulling device, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/References Mass Murder, Insecurity, Kidnapping, M/M, Mild Gore, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Abuse, Temporary Loss of Powers, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-28 03:23:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15039626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tclp/pseuds/tclp
Summary: Years after the fall of the First Order and hiding their identities, Hux and Kylo have found a precarious peace on their ship, the Hallow. That is, until Kylo is captured by a group of bounty hunters targeting Force users.Hux rescues him, but when the effects of the sedatives and Force-nulling collar don’t wear off as expected, Kylo tries to keep it from Hux.





	The Price of Believing

**Author's Note:**

> This is 4 months late, but it was inspired by the prompt: [First Shower after being held captive for a long time](https://hurtkylofest.tumblr.com/prompts2018) of the Kylo H/C fest back in March.
> 
> Many thanks to [Kyluxtrashcompactor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyluxtrashcompactor/pseuds/kyluxtrashcompactor), [Oorsprong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oorsprong/pseuds/oorsprong) and [TheKnitterati](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKnitterati/pseuds/TheKnitterati) for all the help, encouragements, and beta work along the way. <3

_We cling to our fairytales until the price for believing in them becomes too high._  
\- _Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children,_ Ransom Riggs

 

_There's no hope in regretting now_  
_All the pain that we could not see_  
_We both knew what we wanted_  
_And we took it believing it free_  
_- _Mercy_ , Sarah McLachlan _

 

*

 

The shower doesn't help.

His forehead rests against the shower wall, arms braced to hold up his exhausted body as he watches water circle the drain. It's clouded with dirt, blood and the remnants of other things he'd rather not think about. Three weeks of captivity washing away.

The bounty hunter had not often bothered to shuffle him down the narrow corridors of their ship from the improvised holding cell to the 'fresher. They'd stayed away from him and the other captured Force users as much as possible. When they came near—when they had no choice but to come near in order to administer sedatives and check that the Force-nulling collars were secure—it was with obvious reluctance, sonic prods at the ready.

Kylo remembers their nervous shuffles and glances as he was stabbed with a needle, twice every cycle.

He tries to find some satisfaction, tries to enjoy the knowledge that they'd recognized him as a threat, even while cut off from the Force.

The thought should make him smile, but under the heavy cloud of steam filling the shower, his face is waxen. _It's like trying to sense the surface of his long lost mask as if it were his own face._ He thinks about reaching up to feel around his lips, but his muscles are fused in place with disuse. His body and mind are weary, weighed down by something heavier than exhaustion. He can't tell what expression he's wearing.

Either way, it's unimportant.

When he first got into the shower, he used the antiseptic soap from the medkit, expended what little energy he had left to scrape himself raw. He hasn't moved since. He squints down at his toes, reddened from the antiseptic. They don't seem pruney. He ignores the trickling sense of urgency. It can't have been that long. Still, Hux may have a knack with the _Hallow_ 's water recycling system, but the supply is limited. _It was the compromise for decent water pressure. When they first acquired the ship, only the sonic worked in the shower, and_ _the sinks provided a thin trickle of lukewarm water, at best._ He should wash himself properly, untangle his hair, but he lets the scalding water pummel his body until his aches are a low throbbing awareness at the back of his mind.

Kylo spits out the water pooling in his mouth, draws his thoughts back to the present. It was easier to focus with Hux in the room. He doesn't want Hux to see this, however. During Kylo's… When Hux came for him, he hadn't noticed Kylo's failed attempts to use the Force. But there's no one here to shoot at them, no one to distract Hux if Kylo's next attempt fails.

_Hux had never seen Kylo during one of Snoke's tests, when he'd cut Kylo off from the Force, or in the aftermath. Only Snoke and the Knights had witnessed that particular anguish._

He shakes himself, straightens. Water thunders against his back. He concentrates on its weight, its temperature, the slight shake of his thighs. _He's been standing here for too long. He's atrophied from spending weeks in a cell that grew so crowded he could walk no more than a few paces._ Kylo yanks his thoughts away from the cell—deep breaths—tries to clear his head. He reminds himself the Force is still there, nothing could take that away from him. He just has to reach for it, cut through the fog pressing down on his mind.

He reaches out.

The Force wriggles through his grasp, slithers away beyond his reach. Like hitting a mental wall through which, before, he could freely pass.

"No! No, no, no. Come on!" Kylo punches the shower wall, grinds his forehead against it until he hears the metal panel groan. "I had it," he says, and leaves another dent in the wall.

He'd been so sure. Once the collar came off, he should've been able to sense the Force. His mind races; he had assumed the drugs were only designed to keep his mind foggy, his body weakened. He doesn't know of any drug that could inhibit the Force.

_Snoke used to close him off from the Force, but never for so long. In the earliest days of his training, Kylo had worried he wouldn't find his way back after days of deprivation. It was a useless fear because, unlike his other fears, this one never focused his attention. It left him panicking, floundering. So Snoke had trained it out of him until he could go days with a Force-nulling collar._

Kylo grits his teeth. He wants to blame Hux.

Hux. Hux who, in the end, had to come for him because Kylo had failed to free himself. Hux who had blithely blown up the bounty hunters' ship as soon as he got Kylo back onto the _Hallow_. Hux who hadn't thought to grab a sample of the drugs used on Kylo.

So much for his tactical mind.

The water sputters; the tank is nearly empty. Kylo turns off the shower and looks down at himself, blinks away the rivulets curtaining his face. His skin is pink and raw. His mind is a heavy haze. He can't remember if he used the soap, or only stood under the water, thoughts wandering. He turns on the sonic, flinches when the shallow vibrations make the same low buzzing as the bounty hunters' prods.

Kylo slams off the sonic.

He walks out to the middle of the 'fresher. The room seems larger than he remembers. Today, the _Hallow_ makes him feel small in a way few ships ever have. _First Order ships generally managed it, though_. He looks around, adrift in what suddenly seems a spacious refresher, faced with having to decide what comes next. He knows there's something, a series of steps. They're too trivial to forget, too mechanical to remember.

He needs sleep.

By the sink, he catches a strip of his reflection in the narrow mirror crammed between cabinets. He hasn't seen himself in weeks. There had been no mirror on the bounty hunters' souped-up ship, and as soon as he'd jumped them to hyperspace—going who knows where—Hux had sat Kylo down to inspect him. The blue medical skin-gloves he'd put on had stuck to the tacky film of dried sweat covering Kylo. He couldn't look away from Hux's hands.

_Hux still prefers to wear black. On Hux, any color besides red is jarring. The gloves were like something out of another life. Hux's ice-blue sofa. Kylo remembers how Hux had seemed to vibrate with intent, overzealous in his need to impress Kylo with the addition to his quarters, with his sophistication, with this indulgence meant to show off his new rank and the liberties it afforded him. Kylo had taken one look at the horrid blue couch and asked, "Did you buy it off a Hutt?"_

He blinks at his reflection until his face comes back into focus.

He lifts his chin, baring his neck, turns his face from side to side, twists to look over his shoulder where the bounty hunters had zapped him.

Hux had touched him with blue hands, with care, checking for bruises and injuries. He tended to him, but found nothing of concern. Now, rid of all the grime, Kylo can't see so much as a scratch on his skin.

He's washed clean. Healed.

_As if nothing happened._

The thought sends him to his knees.

He barely makes it to the toilet before his throat burns with acid, and the half-ration Hux had forced him to eat is brought back up. His stomach empties itself, but goes on cramping, refuses to let him rest. He tries not to fight the reflex to dry heave, lets the nausea run its course.

He can feel the floor's metal grid press into his legs as he kneels. He knows—he's been here before—the grid will leave a latticework of red furrows on his skin. He concentrates on the ache in his knees and legs instead of the tremors that wrack him.

Soon enough he can drag himself away from the toilet. He slumps against the bulkhead and listens to the familiar rumble of the engines carried throughout the ship by cheap, thin durasteel panels.

He's clammy with sweat, shaking, but he doesn't have the strength to stand for another shower. He couldn't make it to the bed, four steps away.

Reflexively, he reaches for the Force, scattering what remains of his energy.

 

*

 

Hux finds him some time later, sitting on the refresher's floor. Kylo isn't sure how long it's been, isn't sure if he dozed, or only let his mind go blank.

Hux hasn't changed his clothes. His boots are still filthy with traces of the holding cell's floor, and splatters of gore. Kylo hadn't seen Hux this vicious since the last months of the Order, when he was trying to hold it all together by any means possible.

His stomach lurches; there's a low burning shame in knowing Hux had to fetch him, but the memory of his ruthlessness… He looks up at Hux, hovering in their bedroom, and gives him a wry smile. Hux broke his own rule when he came for Kylo. _Hux had been unbearably spiteful after he'd lost the_ Finalizer _while fetching Kylo. He kept coming up with convoluted plans that might yet save the Order—nothing could've saved the Order—and had tried to plan for every eventuality. Hux had told him, "Next time you're captured or incapacitated, do not expect a rescue"._ Kylo intends to be insufferably smug.

Hux comes to crouch in front of him, just out of reach. Kylo frowns, tenses at Hux's calculated distance and assessing gaze.

"Did you fall?"

"No." He motions to the toilet.

"Ah."

He reaches for Hux's wrist, but Hux stands with a sigh, and walks back out through the bedroom.

The roar tears out of Kylo and chokes off in a rasp. In an instant, his head swims, nausea threatens anew, but Kylo gets a grip and forcefully pushes the sensation to the back of his mind. He stares daggers at Hux's back as he kicks at the door concealing the water tank. Concentrating on his rage only does so much and the dull thumps of his kicks make him feel worse than miserable. _Pathetic_.

"Easy, the water tank would win that fight."

"Fuck you," Kylo snarls.

He braces himself against the bulkhead, tries to stand, but his clammy hands slip on the smooth durasteel. He hates the feeling of being assessed for weakness. He's had more than his fill of it. Hux is still turned away and a thought hits Kylo, unbidden: he wonders if Hux regrets going through the trouble of getting him back. Has Hux noticed he can't use the Force? Kylo can feel tears build up behind his eyes. He bites his tongue, glares up at Hux in a vain attempt at stoicism. Hux isn't even looking at him.

It takes him a moment to register that Hux isn't leaving either. He's standing in their bedroom, stripping out of his soiled, blood-crusted clothes, dropping piece after piece on top of Kylo's own discarded clothes. _They're more like unsalvageable rags. Kylo ought to space them at the first opportunity._

Kylo stares as Hux sheds layers with methodical movements and adds to the growing pile of their clothing.

Hux's hands stutter on the hem of his sweater. His shoulders rise and fall in a deep breath before he throws it aside to reveal one of Kylo's crop tops instead of the usual undershirt. It looks out of place on Hux, which he seems to realize; a flush rises from Hux's shoulders to his hairline. The top isn't added to the rags: it's carefully folded and placed on the dresser.

_Either way, Kylo can't get to an airlock. The clothes will have to stay for now._

Staring at Hux's flushed skin, he tries to stand again. He braces against the bulkhead, gets one leg under himself, but his sore knee gives a sharp throb and he slips down with a thud.

Hux glances at him over his shoulder and hurries back, stepping over Kylo's legs to reach the sink. His skin isn't as grimy as Kylo's had been, but he takes the time to scrub his arms to the elbows, then his face, before he kneels by Kylo.

This isn't going how he thought it would. Hux has been uncharacteristically silent since they boarded the _Hallow_. He expected Hux to harangue him for getting captured, for not freeing himself sooner. He expected an opening so he could throw his own rescue back in Hux's face. _Hux shifts, as if to find a more comfortable spot on the floor grid, and it brings him a little closer._ Kylo supposes there will be time for that, tomorrow, or the cycle after, maybe.

Hux brushes his cheek, his forehead, pushes damp strands of hair out of Kylo's face. Without meaning to, Kylo leans into his touch. Hux's hands are wet and Kylo blinks when droplets of water fall on his eyelids and nose.

Hux starts to stand back up, reaching for a towel, but Kylo grabs his wrist.

"It's fine, leave it."

Hux flinches and Kylo sees the skin turn white under his grip. It takes him a moment of concentrated effort to loosen his fingers. When he does, he wants to stand and flee, wants to be alone when, just a moment ago, the prospect had him kicking at walls. He wants to hide from Hux's keen gaze, but Hux is crowding him against the wall and Kylo couldn't get away without touching him.

For a long time, Hux stares at him, seemingly at a loss. He opens his mouth, but falters. He raises his hand again, telegraphing his movement as he cards his fingers through Kylo's hair.

"Let me?" Hux asks, but only once he's already touching Kylo.

Kylo's body shudders. He leans forward, presses his nose against the steady pulse point nestled in Hux's wrist. He closes his eyes, lets himself hide for the space of a blink; Hux's gaze, his touch, it feels like too much. Something inside Kylo starts to shift, pulled to the surface and he swallows it down. He's not ready, yet. Desperately, he digs his fingers into Hux's thighs, keeping him where he is: on the uncomfortable floor, while the grid leaves angry red marks on his skin.

There's a painful tug on Kylo's matted hair as Hux's fingers catch on a knot. Hux huffs, exasperated, and inches closer to untangle Kylo's hair.

It helps.

Nothing is more familiar than Hux's exasperated attention. Kylo feels some of the tension leave his stiff shoulders. He's no longer a moment away from scattering like ship debris, dumped out the airlock before a hyperspace jump.

He only notices the tears rolling down his cheeks when Hux reaches into a compartment for his threadbare handkerchief—one of its corners is frayed where Hux ripped off the First Order insignia.

"There," Hux says. Then, just as Kylo reaches for it, "Don't blow your nose on it. We have disposables for that."

Kylo's snort is wet, and Hux pulls back the handkerchief, nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Kriff, you're terrible at this," Kylo says.

Hux glares at him, mouth a flat, unhappy line. Still, he brings the handkerchief to Kylo's cheek in gentle swipes. He looks determined, like he wants to keep going in spite of Kylo taking a jab at his ego.

"Since when do you want platitudes?" Hux asks and Kylo wants to smile through the tears.

Hux wipes away Kylo's tears again and again, as many times as needed until they stop flowing. Kylo feels like a mess and, by the time the silent sobs have exhausted themselves, his teeth are chattering. Hux doesn't look much better. His face is drawn, his skin is sickly pale—more so than usual—and raised with goosebumps.

The tears have left him exhausted. His mind is finally quiet and he wants to get to bed before he gets caught in the undertow of his own mind.

Hux guides him to the bed and, as they walk around the pile of abandoned clothes, the smell is foul enough that he catches the steely scent of dried blood.

Kylo turns his face away and his nose brushes against Hux's cheek. He smells like burnt ozone from his blaster and stale sweat. It's familiar. He allows himself to slump a bit more against Hux, trying to get closer even with the distant awareness that this isn't the moment to draw things out just so he can nuzzle Hux's skin.

Somehow, Hux lets him. His smile is brittle when Kylo inhales the smell of him, buries it deep between his ribs.

There's a strange reassurance in the tangible proof of his rescue. His mind may be frayed, but at least he knows it's not a fever dream, a training simulation, or a hallucination. _Training under Snoke, he'd had trouble differentiating between simulations and reality. Deprivation periods left his grip on his own senses weakened to the point where he couldn't always tell if he was alone or not in the simulation rooms._

Hux lowers him onto the bed carefully and brings him a set of sleeping clothes. Kylo watches him busy himself around the room, sealing their grimy clothes into a vacuum-tight bag for the incinerator. Kylo almost tells him to leave them. After a while, he remembers himself and slips on the sleep clothes with sluggish limbs.

Kylo catches himself wanting to reach for the Force. The compulsive need to check is a waste of energy, but he keeps poking at the absence like a missing tooth, or rather like half of him has been torn away.

"The Knights, are they… You spoke with them?" Hux had said he would holocall the Knights while Kylo showered.

"They're fine," Hux says, answering Kylo's true question without being asked. "I inquired about the traffic at the docks, as you requested. Corr said a ship was spotted last week. The crew asked about Force sensitives, but left within the cycle."

"New Republic recruiters?"

"That is the most likely option."

Hux is always tense after speaking with the Knights, but something about his answer is off, stilted. Dread trickles down Kylo's spine. "Hux?"

Hux glances up and sees Kylo's fingers fumble on the drawstring of his pajama pants. He frowns, finally puts aside the vacuu-bag to sit beside Kylo. "You should speak with them," Hux says, pushing Kylo's hands away so he can tie the string.

"I was doing fine," Kylo grumbles, but Hux ignores him.

"Our movements have become predictable, sneaking around the edge of the Unknown Regions and the Outer Rim."

"They're busy."

Hux gives him a flat look. "Right."

" _Hux_ ," Kylo says. It's a warning. He's too exhausted for this. Their arguments always circle back here: requests for the Knights to join them, or—as Hux sees it—for them to act as bodyguards for the rest of their lives. That's not what the Knights are, or ever were. In the end, they aren't Kylo's to lead either. But Hux sees them as little more than stormtroopers with the Force.

"It wouldn't be like last time," Hux says. He looks like the subject is physically painful. "They're your… yours. I wouldn't give them orders."

Kylo snorts, distantly amused by the idea that Hux could _not_ give orders to anyone who comes within fifty meters.

"There's safety in numbers, if nothing else."

Kylo snaps his head up, staring at Hux in disbelief. He doesn't appreciate the implication. Even if the Knights had been with them all along, Kylo would've still been captured. Probably. Hux makes it sound like Kylo's to blame for refusing to bring the Knights onboard the _Hallow_. _Kylo blames himself, but not for the same reasons._ He shouldn't be surprised: of course Hux will press any advantage to win this argument.

Kylo wrenches to his feet, away from Hux, and stumbles his way to the bulkhead. He leans back, flattens himself against the ship. When the rush of blood grows to a stuttering crescendo in his ears, he concentrates on the thrumming of the engine.

Then, Hux has the gall to sigh like Kylo's the one being difficult.

"I don't need to hear your 'I told you so'." As if Kylo doesn't already know that his powers painted a target on their backs.

"I wasn't—"

"You got sloppy, Hux. You were so sure they needed you on Treshan, that it was safe to go back regularly," Kylo says, trying to spit the words out and hide how his voice has turned reedy.

Kylo had been sure, too. They'd both liked Treshan VII's spaceport: fresh food, usually some interesting work if they cared to stay for a week or two. Though he could've done without Hux's smugness at being the one who'd built a rapport with the locals. For once.

Or maybe he'd only wanted to believe it was safe to make regular runs to Treshan after years of flitting from one backwater spaceport to another. They thought the locals hadn't noticed his use of the Force, but someone must've tipped off the bounty hunters.

"A two person crew is an easy target. You're their Master. I'm certain all you need to do is ask."

"No. There will always be risks for us, no matter what," Kylo says. The last thing he wants is to have the Knights and Hux on the same ship. _Never again._ He turns back to Hux who's sitting, military-straight, on their rumpled bed in nothing more than boxers. It makes the words stick to the back of his throat. He doesn't recognize his own voice as he pushes past the rising panic. "You’re so wrapped up in yourself. Thinking people should be grateful when they're allowed to be—. When you let them benefit from your prissy Academy education." Kylo's voice fails him before he can get truly going on the insults.

He knows by Hux's narrowed eyes that he's teetering dangerously close to a shouting match. He rubs at his chest with a numb hand, hates how it visibly trembles, hates the part of him that wishes Hux would take this as a cue to let it go, if only for the cycle.

"I’m not in the mood for your fatalism," Hux says, sweeping aside Kylo's words with a gesture.

"It's not—! Did you hear a word I said?" Kylo shakes his head. Hux is impossible to reason with when he's convinced he knows best. "Your egotism blinds you. You're the one who put me at risk." Kylo hesitates. Hux's gaze has drifted and fixed on the wall above Kylo's left shoulder. "If I didn't know better—" _He knows it's not true. He knows… He'll always worry that Hux isn't with him because that's what he wants, but because Kylo is the strongest person who'll have him._ "I'd think you were trying to get rid of me."

Hux's face crumbles, but he's quick to shutter his expression, eyes going blank and distant. Kylo squashes the impulse to reach out through the Force. He wants so much to glean something of Hux's real emotions in this moment.

"It could have been prevented," Hux says in a slow flat tone, still not looking at Kylo. Then he ruins it by adding, "There are ways to avoid future detection. Protocols we could put in place. But instead you choose to hear blame in every word."

"You're missing the point!"

"Then tell me!" Hux has jumped to his feet. He's visibly trembling, like he's trying to hold back.

They stare at one another from across the small room, and the only noise heard above the engine is their ragged breathing.

"What do you want me to do, Kylo? I got you back," Hux trails off, a plea swelling his voice to bursting. From someone else, it would almost sound like guilt, but Kylo knows better.

He scoffs and angles himself away from Hux, wraps his arms around the anxious churn of his stomach.

"We got them. The bounty hunters are dead," Hux says, voice firm once more.

" _T_ _hese_ ones are dead. _That_ ship is destroyed. It was a larger operation that that." He only caught scraps of conversation, but he heard enough to put most of it together: a network of ships going after Force users.

Hux stays silent and Kylo thinks back to the unknown ship that made it to the Knights' isolated hideout.

"Did Corr see the crew on that ship?"

"Yes."

"Well?"

Hux's mouth flattens to a thin like.

"Hux, were they bounty hunters?"

A beat.

"Yes."

Hux's nightstand crashes against the far wall. They watch it bounce and roll to a stop against the dresser.

Kylo winces as he moves his shoulder, he thinks he might have pulled something. Meanwhile, Hux is unimpressed.

"Were you going to tell me?"

Hux looks like he's trying not to roll his eyes. "Yes. _Later._ Look at yourself. You can barely stand as it is."

Kylo forces himself to stand straight and stumbles back against the bulkhead. Hux surges forward to catch him, but Kylo throws out his arm to hold him off. "No."

Hux huffs, but hovers by Kylo's side, stubborn.

"They're fine."

"You don't _know_ that. They're not disposable."

"Yes, well," Hux grits through his teeth as if it pains him to admit as much. "There are six of them, more than enough to deal with troublesome bounty hunters."

Kylo has suddenly had enough of this conversation, enough of Hux. He shoves past and curls up on the very edge of the mattress, as far from Hux as possible. He yanks the comforter over himself, lets half of it dangle onto the floor so that there are no blankets on Hux's side of the bed. Hux huffs again, loud and pointed this time.

Kylo remains there for a while, anticipating: usually, Hux snaps at him not to sleep so close to the edge, that he'll fall off the bed in the middle of the night and wake Hux with his flailing. Tonight, there's no exasperated complaint. Instead, Hux turns off the lights on his way to the refresher and shuts the door behind him.

Kylo hears the shower turn on. He wonders if the water has had time to run through the recycling and heating cycles since he showered.

Despite being alone, Kylo stays still, tense, and tries to slow his heartbeat. He's apprehensive and can't quite find the source of it. Now that Hux has left the room, his mind feels too crowded. He tries to keep track of the familiar sounds as Hux gets ready for sleep. He can hear the echo of steps on the floor grate, cabinets snapping shut, and a squeaking sound that means the faucets need to be oiled again.

Kylo's mouth still tastes of bile, but he refuses to make this easier on Hux and leave the bed to brush his teeth. He's claimed the bed and Hux will have to contend with his presence, or find somewhere else to sleep.

Kylo tells himself that Hux owes him more than a crap apology and rationales about keeping information from him, no matter what state he's in. He's rehashing the conversation in his mind, his anger feeding on itself. He grabs the pillow on Hux's side of the bed and punches it a few times to flatten the worst of the lumps. He flops back onto the bed right before the refresher door opens.

Light spills into the room and Hux doesn't so much as hesitate before he joins Kylo in bed. Entitled ass can't even see the bed has been claimed. Kylo should tell him to get out, throw a blanket at him and wish him a comfortable night in the pilot's chair. He should—

The mattress dips behind him. Kylo keeps his eyes closed and his breaths deep and steady, feigning sleep. Though Hux knows him too well; he'll know Kylo is more likely to brood than sleep after a fight.

Hux goes along with it. A tacit agreement to rest first, argue later.

Carefully, Hux fits himself against his back. Lips press once to the top of Kylo's spine before Hux gathers him close, solid and unmistakably real, coaxing Kylo away from his spiralling thoughts. Hux clings to Kylo like he hasn't in a long time, like he hasn't since they scraped away from the disintegrating First Order.

 

*

 

Kylo wakes with a gasp. He thrashes against the suffocating weight pressing down on his chest.

"It's me."

Hux.

Hux loosens his arms, but Kylo still feels a weight like a vise around his lungs. His pulse jumps at the base of his throat and he swallows reflexively against the sticky pressure.

"Kylo?"

"It's ok," Kylo says, panting. "Give me…a second."

Kylo is unpleasantly aware. There's something jarring about the familiar sounds and smells surrounding him. Understanding flits by and burrows out of reach.

_Air circles through the vent on the far bulkhead; engines rumble; water drips into the echoing half-empty water tank; something smells of rank sweat and piss._

The cell. He expected to wake up in the cell. He fumbles at his throat, searching for the unyielding collar, but it's not there. His hands rub up and down his throat, making sure, but there's no reassurance to be found. It's not helping to clear the dissonance between where he was and where he is.

He's not calming down.

"Breathe."

Kylo doesn't bother to snap, _I am_ , or, _easy for you to say_.

Hux is still pressed to him and he takes exaggerated breaths that Kylo can feel along his back. He reaches around Kylo's side to rest a hand against his chest, monitoring every intake of air.

"That's it," Hux says. He sounds barely awake, accent thicker than usual.

Hux shifts just enough to slip his other arm free from under them. Kylo can feel the quick back and forth shift of air over his head: Hux is shaking his numb hand and flexing his fingers to bring back the blood flow. The ritual is familiar, Kylo knows what comes next and, soon, fingers slip through his hair.

"Nightmares?"

"Nightmares," Kylo agrees. Though he doesn't remember what set him off, it's usually a fair bet.

Hux's nose is pressed to the base of Kylo's neck, where it usually rests when they sleep. Hux's presence, his quiet questions and familiar gestures are drawing him back, so Kylo focuses on Hux. On the hand in his hair, cradling his head. On the other, soothing circles over his thundering heart. Hux is stilted about it. The motion of his thumb stutters like the movement is foreign to him. It is, in truth, foreign to them both, even after years waking up like this. But it feels better than any syrupy kindness Kylo's ever received.

He glances at the chrono blinking a pale green 04:39. It's been almost a cycle since the last dose of sedatives, and a half-cycle since the collar was removed.

As Kylo's breathing slows down, Hux's hands stop moving. His chest expands and deflates in a steady rhythm against Kylo's back.

Kylo waits a few more minutes, makes sure Hux has fallen back asleep. _There are five stray cups sitting on the intact nightstand. Hux has been drinking tea, staying up until all hours again._ He slips his arm free of the covers, concentrates on one of the cups, and reaches for the Force.

A hand shoots out to grab Kylo's fingers. Hux has stopped him before the cup could move and Kylo's earlier shame comes rushing back.

"I can—"

"Enough!"

Hux laces their fingers and slowly folds their hands back, holding them to Kylo's chest on the spot where he was monitoring his breathing.

Hux is tense against his back. "You can worry later."

Kylo frowns at the words. It's out of character for Hux to ignore a problem, to brush it off when it so obviously impacts his own safety and any future plans he may have—

The realization shouldn't come as a surprise: Hux doubts Kylo will get his powers back. He's terrified of Kylo's reaction and trying to put off the explosion. Kylo bites down on the urge to yell at Hux for making it so transparent.

Hux resumes his awkward soothing. It's made more awkward by his clutching Kylo's hand as he pats his chest.

"You said no platitudes." It comes out bitter. Kylo worries he's shown more of himself than he intended. He shakes off Hux's hand.

Hux sighs against the back of his neck and Kylo shudders at the unpleasant sensation.

The silence stretches and Kylo takes it as confirmation. He digs his blunt nails into his forearm when he feels tears threaten again. It was a mistake to let Hux see him so weak.

Kylo startles when he feels Hux's fingers, light against his shoulder where the bounty hunters zapped him.

"The bacta gel did its job, at least."

All praise bacta for its reliability. "Right."

Hux removes his fingers and rolls away, just far enough so they aren't touching anymore, but Kylo can feel his presence, hovering.

"They're dead. We'll see to the remaining bounty hunters if that's what you want," Hux promises, tone dark and heady. "But for now, stop fighting. Rest…stubborn arse," Hux says in a low mumble, and Kylo isn't sure if he was supposed to hear that last part. He's sure Hux didn't mean for it to sound fond.

Kylo closes his eyes and, finally, relaxes against the mattress. He buries his face in the pillows.

Hux seems to be waiting for something as Kylo shifts around to find a comfortable position. His attention is insistent and, when he doesn't move of his own volition, Kylo tugs at Hux's sleep pants until he gets the message. Hux drapes himself over Kylo like a blanket. He pulls Kylo flush against his chest, a little further from the looming edge of the bed.

 


End file.
